Grain of Wheat
by Psygirl
Summary: “If a fallen wheat grain survives, it stays the same. But if it dies, a lot grows from it… nothing will happen without someone’s sacrifice.” Claes Freda Johansonn
1. Casser

Grain of Wheat

Rated: PG-13

Disclaimer: I don't own Gunslinger Girl. If I did, it would've been running much longer.

Summary: "If a fallen wheat grain survives, it stays the same. But if it dies, a lot grows from it… nothing will happen without someone's sacrifice."

Prologue: Casser- to break

A young girl sat, curled up in a corner as a short man was screaming at her about something she didn't understand. He was hitting a paper and yelling as the girl could only make out some of the words.

"Stupide…brat, I can't believ-…rades! … kill…-ou little mo-," the man ranted as the girl sat quietly.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" He asked her after several long minutes of yelling. Her dark brown eyes were emotionless as she looked the man in the eye, before standing up and moving a strand of equally brown, almost black hair from her round, toffee-colored face.

"I…don't understand, sir," she said, her voice flat and betraying her American accent. The little man laughed almost sadistically.

"'I don't understand, sir, I DON'T UNDERSTAND SIR!" The man screamed in her face, the girl winced at the volume as her ears rung. He walked to a table, picking up a metal pipe,

"I'll do you a favor and MAKE you understand," he said with a grin as he raised the pipe.

(One week later)

"The search for 12 year-old Charlotte Baptiste has finally ended. She was found severely beaten near the Via Triboniano by a man walking his dog, yesterday evening. Doctors say it appeared that she had been tortured; however, there is no word on her condi-"The statement was cut short as the TV was turned off. The man, Vincent Dart, shook his head in disgust.

"People these days," he muttered to himself as he put his blue suit jacket on, preparing to leave. He was going to a job interview that morning and wanted to look as professional as possible. Who would've thought that a former security guard would be able to land a government job?

'Well an _interview_ for a government job,' he mentally corrected himself as he took one last look into the mirror before leaving his apartment, 'can't count the chickens before they hatch.'

After a quick drive downtown, and a difficult time finding parking, Vincent had finally arrived at the L'ospedale di Santo Francis di Assisi (Hospital of St. Francis of Assisi) for his interview. He looked at the slip of paper that had the information for the interview:

Go to the L'ospedale di Santo Francis di Assisi; room 308 at 9:45 am (Vincent checked his watch, 9:20 am)

Bring a copy of your resume and at least **four** references (He glanced at his resume, and grinned at the five he had listed)

**_Be on time_** (Vincent checked his watch again, 9:21 am)

'Well that appears to be everything,' he thought as he went inside. He did, however, think it odd that he had an interview for a government job in a hospital, but mentally shrugged as he assumed that he would find out soon enough.

'Maybe I'll be working as a government spy,' Vincent thought as he pressed the number three button on the elevator. When the doors closed, he ran a comb through his blonde hair and winked an amethyst eye.

"I'm Dart. Vince Dart," he said with a grin, making his hands look like a gun. When the doors opened he walked down the hall to room 308 humming the "James Bond" theme song. The blonde opened the door and found Mr. Lorenzo leaning against a mirror, who looked at his watch and said,

"You're early, Mr…"

"Dart," provided Vincent reaching out a hand, "Vincent Dart."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Dart. I hear that you are interested in joining our agency," said the director, shaking the blonde's hand.

"Yes, I am. I was referred by my friend, Jean Croce, who I believe works for the agency as well. I did list him as a reference as well as a few others," stated Vincent as he handed Lorenzo his resume. He read through the papers carefully, occasionally nodding and raising an eyebrow. The blonde looked around the room and tried not to fidget nervously.

"Well this is a very impressive resume, Mr. Dart. Tell me, do you like bambini (children)?"

"Yes, very much, sir. In fact, the school which I had volunteered to teach English was one for children with learning disabilities; as stated on my resume," answered Vincent. Lorenzo smiled,

"Then you'll be perfect for this job." He flicked a switch on the wall which lit up the mirror, revealing a room. Vincent's eyes widened at what he saw.

The room was stark white and empty of everything except a nightstand that had a vase with a white flower in it, and a young girl that was laying on life support. The girl's forehead was wrapped in thick bandages, and her round toffee-colored face was covered in bruises, her left arm was in a cast, but her right arm…wasn't there. Vincent had to look away, not able to stand the sight. Lorenzo sighed.

"Her name was Charlotte Baptiste; she went to St. Luci's boarding school. I'm assuming you heard about her on the news?"

"Yeah, but what does my job have to do with her?"

"The agency that you will work for, should you choose to accept the job, is the Social Welfare Agency. They will take the girl and turn her into a cyborg, and it will be your responsibility to train her to become an assassin. However, it is your choice whether or not to take this girl as your operative; you can choose another child or not take the job at all. But be warned, if you choose not to take the job, we can not have you…talking to other people about the agency. So, do you accept?" The director asked.

"What will happen to the girl if I don't choose her?" Vincent asked.

"She will remain here for about two years and if no one takes her by that time, we let her go." Vincent shuddered at the thought. He looked at the girl for a moment and said,

"Okay, I'll take her. Is there anything else I need to know about her?"

"Here's her file," said Lorenzo handing him a folder. "Oh and by the way. She isn't fluent in Italian, so you'll be in charge of teaching her."

"Not a problem," said Vince, "but it says in her file she's half deaf. Do I have to try to teach her sign language too?"

"No, the conditioning process will take care of that," Lorenzo explained," we will replace most her body with mechanical parts and will fix any hearing or eyesight problems. Now all she needs is a name."

"A name?" asked Vincent," she already has one."

"The conditioning will also erase her memory. So you will have to give her a new name."

"Camille. That'll suit her just fine," said Vincent looking at the girl through the window.

To be continued,


	2. Nouveau Vite, Nouveau Missione

A/N: This is taking place after episode 13; that's right people, Angie's dead.

A/N 2: "…"- speaking

'…'-thoughts

---------: scene change

A/N 3: I may borrow some stuff from the manga as well

Disclaimer: I don't own Gunslinger girl or _The Tao of Pooh_

Chapter 1: Nouveau Vite, Nouveau Missione: New Life, New Mission

"Do you have everything?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you remember where everything is?"

"Yes, sir."

"Camille."

"Sir?"

"Stop calling me, 'sir'."

"Yes, si- um…er…" The twelve year old girl looked down at her polished black shoes as she fidgeted.

"Vincent," said man smiled and patted the girl's head. She bit her lip nervously and began to play with the hem of her black and gray plaid skirt. "It's okay, kid. Everyone's nervous on their first day of school. Just pay attention to the teachers and you'll be fine."

"D'accord, Vincent," Camille murmured.

"I'll see you in three hours," Vincent said before walking down the hall.

Camille sighed as she took out her itinerary and paled. She had German as her first class. German! She could barely manage speaking Italian! The cyborg had to resist the urge to groan; this was going to be a disaster. Camille looked at her watch and saw the time: 8:05. She was already late!

"Triela will never let me live this down," Hirscher thought as he rushed to his classroom. The 'serious German' was running very late by his standards as he was usually five to ten minutes early. Unfortunately, the alarm clock and the coffee maker had decided to rebel, making poor Hirscher wake up with fifth teen minutes to get to class with no coffee. He checked his briefcase for the day's handout at a brisk jog; and had he been paying attention, he might have not been knocked down by the gray, black and brown blur that scrambled in the classroom door.

"If he's not here in ten minutes, I'm going back to bed," said Triela as she put her head down on the table. Henrietta looked up at her.

"Aren't you worried? What if something happened to Hirscher?" She asked. "I would be scared if Jose was late like this."

"Oh, don't worry so much Henrietta. He's probably stuck in traffic." The older girl grinned as an idea hit her, "I know! _I'll_ teach the class." Triela got up and cleared her throat while adjusting her tie. Claes shook her head and pulled out one of her books, _The Tao of Pooh_. 'This should be entertaining when Hirscher finds out,' she thought.

"Rico, write the answer to question 2, from the homework on the board," Triela said in a loud, deep voice as she marched back and forth. The aforementioned girl giggled.

"From which page?" Rico asked," We had three pages to do since we were on vacation for the past two weeks."

Before Triela could reply, the door opened and Camille stepped inside. Thinking Triela was the professor, she said,

"I'm sorry for being late, Signora Hirscher. It won't happen again." At that point, Rico, Triela were trying their hardest not to laugh. Even Henrietta and Claes had to smile.

"Just take your seat…what's your name?" asked Triela, still 'teaching'.

"Camille."

"Ah, yes. Are you new here?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Alright then; take your seat and take out your homework. Since you are late, write the answer to number 3 on the board after Rico is finished."

"I…um…" Camille stammered, "I didn't receive any… homework; I have my books."

Triela put her hand under her chin and said in the same loud, deep voice, "Then you must sit in the corner for your punishment." Camille stood up and tried not to cry; it was her first day and she was already in trouble. What would Vincent say? She wiped a stray tear as she sat on the floor facing the corner. He'd be so ashamed.

Suddenly the door opened again and everyone (excluding Camille) stood at attention. The real Hirscher walked in and eyed the classroom.

"Triela, sit down and take out your homework, now. We'll discuss this later," he said glaring at her.

"It was just a joke," she defended. "I'm sure you did things like this in your day. Besides you're seven minutes late, another eight and I'd be heading back to bed."

"Triela. Sit. Now." She sighed.

"Oh, alright, one must choose their battles," she murmured before taking her seat.

As Hirscher took out the handouts for the class, Camille raised her hand. When he began to collect the homework she cleared her throat in an attempt to get his attention, as he noticed on his way to the teacher's desk to put them in his briefcase.

"Yes…?" He began.

"Camille," she finished before asking,"since Triela isn't the teacher, may I sit with the others, sir?" That did it; Claes started to snicker.

"Yes you may. On that note, Triela…"

The aforementioned cyborg sighed, "Yeah, yeah. Sorry Camille," she apologized as the younger girl smiled and sat a row down from her.

Camille nodded before taking a notebook out of her backpack. The French speaker wrote the words in the margin, "cet d'accord" (that's okay) so she could look up the word in Italian later.

The rest of the morning (fortunately) went without much incident. Everyone had language classes that day (since it was Monday), so after German the girls went to Arabic, then English. This is where the trouble started.

"Okay, everyone, you know the procedure. We will start where we stopped before; turn to page 29," said their teacher, Ms. Read. Ms. Read was a tall woman with black frizzy hair, who wore a tight red suit with shiny red heel. She wore very heavy red lipstick and cheap perfume that smelled so bad; it could suffocate someone evenoutside the room.

"You," the teacher said with a heavy British accent, as she pointed to Camille," what is your name?"

"Camille, ma'am," said girl answered for the third time that day.

"Turn to page 29 and read the dialogue, and then translate it into Italian."

"Si," the younger cyborg said as she found the page. As Camille began to read, her Brooklyn accent appeared and by the time she was done, everyone's eyes were on the American born pre-teen. She blushed and muttered: "Can my day get _any_ worse".

Apparently, it could.

"Where were you raised, a _pig _farm? If you're not going to speak properly, then _don't speak at all!_" the teacher yelled as she slammed her hands on the table.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I want you to translate the _squalor_ of yours into Italian, go sit in the hall."

Camille grabbed her backpack and trudged to the door. What had she done wrong? She knew that it wasn't proper English, but as least she could speak it! The cyborg shifted though her bag, looking for her English-Italiano dictionary but couldn't find it.

'Vincent is gonna kill me,' she thought sitting with her back to the wall. After staring into space for who-knew-how-long, a shadow loomed over the girl.

"**_BOO!_**" The shadow yelled right next to her ear. Camille shrieked and jumped about 2 feet in the air, before turning to a snickering Vincent.

"You scared me!" She said with a glare.

"That was the point. What are you doing out here? You class doesn't end for another ten minutes." He asked. Camille looked down.

"I…ummm. Angered the teacher."

"Why?"

"Because I have an accent…at least I think that that's the reason."

"Well that's stupid of her," Vincent leaned against the wall. There was a moment of silence. "Wanna just take a lunch break?" He asked.

"Can we go out to eat?" The cyborg asked.

"Sure. I'll talk to Jean later about the teacher later, if and only if, you have dinner with the others."

Camille pouted.

"We'll go to your favorite restaurant…" He enticed. She grinned,

"Deal. Can we have our lesson there then?"

"Ok. So then it's lunch and then Italiano over dessert. Let's go."

"Class isn't over yet," said a confused Camille. Vincent smirked,

"Oh well. Come on, so we can miss the rush."

"Alright," she said standing and walking down the hall with her handler. Right when they were about to turn the corner, Ms.Read walked out the door and jogged after them.

"Just where do you think you are going, Camille? You have a translation for me, girl," she glared at the cyborg. Vincent raised an eyebrow,

"So you're Camille's English teacher. I'm Vince-"

"I wasn't talking to you!" She raised her voice in his face, poking him in the chest. "I was talking to _her_," she pointed at the twelve year old.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Thank. God," muttered Triela banging her head on the table, a couple seats down Rico finally stopped pluging her nose from the stench of the teacher's purfume.

"I hate this class," muttered Claes as she took out her book again," and I actually _asked_ to take this class."

"**Just where do you think you are going, Camille? You have a translation for me, girl," **floated into the room.

"Poor kid. She's really having it rough for her first day," commented Triela. Claes rolled her eyes,

"Well it's not like you gave her a warm welcome, you know," she commented.

"Oh, I was just-" a shriek and a crash sounded through the hall and echoed into the room.

The remaining four girls scrambled from their seats and looked outside the room gasping at what they saw.

TBC (A/N: Yes I'm evil for leaving a cliffhanger: )


	3. One marcher en avant, due steps dorso

Chapter 3: One marcher en avant, due steps dorso: One step forward, two steps back

"So tell me again in your own words, Camille; what happened?" Asked the psychologist, Dr. Bianchi, as he sat across from Camille. The girl stared blankly at the man and recounted her story.

"**_Just where do you think you are going, Camille? You have a translation for me, girl," The English teacher, Ms. Read, glared at the cyborg. Vincent raised an eyebrow,_**

"_**So you're Camille's English teacher. I'm Vince-"**_

"_**I wasn't talking to you!" She raised her voice in his face, poking him in the chest. "I was talking to her," she pointed at the twelve year old.**_

"**_Well I'm talking to you, now," said Vincent, "and now that I've met you ,though not formally, I don't think I like you. At all. And what is this I've heard about you ostracizing my kid, just because she's not used to Brit English? That's discrimin-"_**

"**_That's squalor; that's what it is!" Ms. Read snapped, "And I'll have none of that in my classroom!" She enunciated each word by poking the handler in the chest, "if that…thing refuses to speak properly, then I'll not have her speak at all!"_**

**_Throughout the altercation where the English teacher proceeded to poke Vincent in the chest, neither seemed to notice Camille's mounting anger. With each poke, the cyborg's fists clenched and her teeth gritted tighter and tighter, until it seemed that her jaw and her small, delicate-looking hands would break from the pressure._**

"_**Really now, one would think that if the handler was an influence on the cyborg, that in this case; both were rubbish," Ms. Read sniffed.**_

**That was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.**

_**With a roar of rage, Camille lanched herself at the physically defenseless woman, punching and kicking, full strength. The English woman screamed in both fear and pain as the cyborg let out her full fury. **_

**_The door on the end of the hall opened, revealing the four other shocked cyborgs. As Triela and Claes rushed forward to restrain Camille, Vincent had already entered the fray and struggled to pull the girl off the teacher._**

"**_Camille! What the hell is wrong with you?! Stop it! Stop this behavior, right now!" Vincent yelled at the raging cyborg. Camille, however, payed her handler no heed and continued to struggle in an attempt to maim, if not, kill Ms. Read. At this point, Triela and Claes began helping the man hold the girl back as the English teacher hobbled shaking and sobbing down the hall._**

"**_She's gone completely mad!" The woman murmured in between sobs ," crazy little git that's all she is. These freaks have no self control. They just need to be put down and I'll see to it that their 'handlers' go down with them!" She finished with a scream._**

_**All the cyborgs tensed at this and Camille, seeing that most of her restrainers let their guard down, broke free and charged Ms. Read like a wild animal. The Englishwoman's eyes widened as she realized her mistake:**_

**Never threaten a cyborg's handler **

_**As the enraged girl closed in on the terrified woman, Vincent's firm order broke through her clouded consciousness:**_

"**_Camille Belle Baptiste, STAND DOWN!"_**

_**And almost as if a switch had been pulled the girl stopped dead in her tracks, only two feet away from the teacher.**_

"**_Sir?" Questioned Camille with a cheerful smile. Ms. Read whimpered at the close call with death, and as security came to escort the woman to the infirmary for treatment, people then noticed the puddle on the floor were the woman previously stood._**

Vincent, Jean, and Lorenzo watched from behind a two-way mirror as Dr. Bianchi made notes on the cyborg's statement. Jean shook his head.

"This is going to be a mess to clean up, Vincent. You need to put a leash on your 'attack dog'. Literally," the older blond commented, though Vincent shook his head.

"I'm not increasing her conditioning medicine dosage. Okay I admit, she _may_ need a _bit_ more brainwashing , but I won't turn the kid into a robot", he retorted. Jean stared at the man,

"she completely ignored your orders, and attacked a teacher; you do realize that you're lucky she won't be terminated right?" He asked.

"Yes, _Jean_, and thank you; but that's still not going to convince me to systematically shorten her life-span. I'll talk to her after she's released from the hospital. Don't worry, this won't be happening again," the new handler reassured.

"It better not," said Jean as he and the director walked out of the room.

(One week later)

"Hey kiddo, you're out of the hospital already," said Vincent with a smile as he looked up from the book he was reading in his office.

"Yes, sir and I'm ready to continue with my classes and my training," replied Camille coldly as she stood at attention. Her handler's smile faded.

"Camille, I told you not to call me 'sir'. This isn't the army and I'm not even near being 80. So let's skip the formalities and get ice cream, your treat." He joked

"Sir?"

"Kid, are you ok?" The man put down his book and bent down to her level. She usually never acted so seriously to any of his jokes, as she was used to them by now. The fact that she was acting so coldly was an oddity and he was worried.

'Maybe I should have skipped the brainwashing,' thought Vincent.

"I'm fine, sir," Camille responded just as coldly.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No sir."

"Look if this is about last week…well… you _were_ out of line; but I'm not mad and I don't want you to act like a robot. Now come on, stop being so frigid; I want you cool not cold, kiddo," stated Vincent, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"What happened, last week, sir?" The cyborg asked confused. Vincent's blood ran cold.

'He wouldn't.'

"What do you mean 'what happened last week'? You took out a teacher!" He exclaimed.

"What do you mean I 'took out a teacher', I don't remember anything," the girl stated.

'He did. Jean that _bastard_; he increased her conditioning dosage as well!' The handler mentally seethed.

"Well I won't be making this mistake again," he said out loud.

"Sir?" Questioned Camille. Vincent smirked and said,

"I hate to do this to you kid, but I have to switch up your training so no one can manipulate you."

"That's alright, sir. I just need to follow yours and the agencies orders; I'm happy this way," the cyborg said in complete monotone. Her handler shook his head,

"Not after this training you will."

TBC


End file.
